11: Clarification
Morning came none too quickly and Robert didn’t even attempt to sleep. No one ever came to take his statement so this must be going higher up, but he was brought breakfast, which wasn’t much, but well accepted. He was in the middle of eating, when he heard a voice he had almost expected at some point, but still cringed to hear. Within a few minutes Guy appeared in front of him along with two younger agents he had seen around, but didn’t really know. Guy looked more tired than ever and looked as if he would bore through the bars if he stared any longer at them. He finally glanced at Robert, and stepped out of the way so the guard could unlock the cell. He motioned the other agents away and stepped in, the door was shut behind him. He walked over to the bed across from Robert (who was alone) and sat down very heavily. It seemed ages before he spoke and made Robert jump when he did.
“I don’t understand. I give you a second chance, a chance to redeem yourself, and I’m left with…with…ah what can I say Robert! I’m speechless. First you have Bartholomew Gatchet moved, using your position of all things, when you knew you didn’t have that authority, then you go and nearly attack the chief of police.”
“I didn’t attack him.”
“No you made a threat against him and his family. Enough that the agency is keeping watch over them. That doesn’t even include the charges against you. Robert, if you were that tired and desperate you should have called, I could have gotten you leave again, yes it would have looked bad, but compared to this, compared to this you would have at least gotten a desk job. Now you will likely end up in federal prison, even when you are proven innocent of the theft. Yes, I don’t think one bit that you were in on all this, I’ve known you too long; that charge will fall out soon enough. As for the overreaction with the cops and the whole mess with Gatchet, you aren’t going to get out of those, and I’m not helping you this time, I’m already under the gun as it is. I was sent here to fetch you only because I caused this whole mess anyway. I’m lucky they didn’t place me under arrest.”
Robert felt his resolve slip away. The night hadn’t been good on his nerves; he had slowly been worn down from the silence and loneliness enough that his recent actions were being exposed as foolish and completely out of line. With Guy’s reassurance that is was, his will finally gave out and his mind became so confused with what he had thought and done that he didn’t know what to say or do. “I’m sorry sir, I…I don’t…have anything that could explain my actions.”
“You could start by telling me what you were thinking at the time, how in the world moving Gatchet could ever help you solve this theft issue.”
“I…I can’t, I’m so confused right now I don’t know what I was thinking, even if I did, putting it out on the table could only cause more problems.”
Guy stared at him hard, seemly trying to pry open his mind, but also trying to figure out what to do with this man who used to be his prize agent. “Well, there isn’t much more to be done here then, we are taking you out by helicopter to an agency jet. From there we are taking you to back to Virginia where you will be put in custody of the FBI and then you will answer all the questions they ask, and more than likely tell them all that is on your mind. I can’t help you here, this place is already under lockdown and an investigation under way.”
“What is going to happen to Bart Gatchet?”
“Nothing thanks to you, since the family signed him over, we would have a bigger mess on our hands trying to reverse it, besides, the Gatchet’s deserve whatever we can give them. I guess you did that right, though you are going to take all the heat for it. Come on, were moving out.”
With that Guy got up and called to the guard and his two agents. They escorted Robert out and up to the roof where there was a helicopter pad and a helicopter waiting for them. They climbed in, took off, and headed for the airport. They were nearing the airport when a call came in on the police radio. They heard the co-pilot talking to the operator. Guy walked up to the cockpit and asked what was up.
“It looks like someone has called in a murder sir; up in the mountains at the old SODM place. Only a helicopter can get up there anymore, with the roads wiped out by years of storms and they are asking us if we can divert?”
“That is over where The Gatchet’s live is it not?”
“Yes sir, that is correct, I was around then; remember all that very well.”
“Go ahead and divert, seeing as your forces are limited here with the investigation and all, you might need our help.”
“Yes sir.”
The helicopter changed directions and picked up speed, heading for the mountains. Robert had barely caught what was said, but Guy repeated it to his men that they were going to help out an investigation of a murder report. He looked at Robert, Robert knew what he was thinking; this was too coincidental with Gatchet’s recent move. Robert looked out the window, it was snowing,
“Sir!” the co-pilot called back.
“What is it?”
“Looks like we are hitting a storm here, visibility is going to get low.”
“Can you still land?”
“Should be able to, but I don’t know for how long.”
With that the pilot sped up, trying to get the helicopter down before the storm picked up. In 10 minutes time they were circling a mountain side, Robert could just make out a squat building in the snow and darkening sky. His mind raced back to old memories, memories that were not ones he cared to remember, especially now. He had a cold feeling going up his spine and he couldn’t seem to get his mind clear. Why was he here, of all places, why here? The helicopter landed in the clearing in front of the building, the storm was picking up.
“Sir!” the co-pilot called back again. “We just got a call from a nursing home in the area saying Bartholomew Gatchet has gone missing! I didn’t even realize he was up here.”
Guy’s faced grew grave, his thoughts seemed confirmed, he looked at Robert. “Looks like we are going to need your help on this one Robert, I’m going to leave you and John here to investigate while we head over to the nursing home, there isn’t much choice, I don’t want you around the family if they are there, you’ve caused enough trouble.”
To Robert’s amazement Guy handed him a gun, “You may need this, but I hope not, good luck.”
Robert’s mind was numb as he hopped down from the helicopter, ducking low instinctively due to the still spinning blades. The other agent grabbed a survival kit from the inside of the helicopter and got down next to him; the helicopter started to lift. The agent handed Robert a flashlight, who was gazing ahead at the small concrete building in front of him, lit up by the helicopter’s flood lights. Dread crept over Robert as he stared at the building, at least he didn’t have to face it alone and John was with him. Before Robert knew what had happened the agent next to him was lifted from the ground and pulled up into the darkness. The light and noise of the helicopter were blocked out by the storm in a matter of seconds, and Robert was left standing in the dark, in the middle of a blizzard, and in the worst place he could ever imagine.
He stood there dumbfounded, not able to comprehend what had just happened to the other agent; why he was even here. He stood there in the dark, snow swirling around him, the wind loud in his ears. He stared into the dark in front of him, where he knew the derelict building stood. He didn’t know what to do, he just stood there shivering, wearing only a light jacket. His mind slowly started to think about what had just happened; the helicopter ride, the diversion, and being left here alone with nothing. He realized he had a gun in one hand and a turned off flashlight in the other. He clicked it on. The light only lit a small area in front of him, revealing only snow falling to the ground. He was standing in a foot already. The light seemed to rekindle his mind; a trace of understanding came to him. He couldn’t quite nail it down, but he knew that he had to get out of the snow and think, and there was only one place to go.
His feet seemed heav
y, but he made them move, and made his way to the place he’d rather not be. The small concrete building materialized in front of him, he stood facing the gaping doorway; the door had long since been ripped from its hinges. He took a deep breath and walked in. He shown his flashlight around, gun at the ready, the place was empty. He walked over to the desk and sat down on it, facing the doorway and the howling wind. Snow was blowing in. He sat and thought for what seemed like a half hour. Had this been the event he had set loose, is that why he was here? More pieces started to fall into place, he had sprung a trap and fell right into it and his time was limited.
A cold feeling came over him and dread crept up in his stomach, yet for some reason his mind stayed clear. He had sprung a trap, but he was still here, still alive, he was being given time, time for what. He thought back to his breakdown, his prayer. A few weeks ago it seemed his prayer had been answered, but only to bring him back down, but he couldn’t help knowing that this was all connected and he had not just stumbled here, he was meant to be here. His logic fought back, he wasn’t going to believe these thoughts of destiny was he? He watched the snow blowing in, watched their patterns, and suddenly remembered all he had been taught. God was sovereign, he was in control. Each of these flakes was unique and fell exactly where it was supposed to, so had he. He was here with time, which was limited, what would he do with it? He looked around, he didn’t know if his death was upon him, but he didn’t have to wait for what he knew was coming. He felt the desk under him, and then remembered James; he was here once as well, stuck, waiting for the inevitable, what had he thought at the time. Was he as crazy as they said?
Suddenly Robert had an urge to search the desk, what if James had feigned some of it, what if he knew something. If Robert’s thoughts were on track, then surely someone had noticed what went on here, something that needed covering up. He moved around the desk. The drawers had all been taken; even the electrical panel next to the desk had been ripped from the wall. His eye came upon the mouth of a pole mounted vertically to the wall right under the electrical panel; frayed wires were hanging out of it. It disappeared down along the side of the desk that was up against the wall. He shown his light down under the desk, where the bottom drawer had been, and there he found something. The cables came out of the pole and fed into the concrete, an area about a foot by a foot, had been cut out at some point in time, probably to feed the wires out under the building to an outside generator. He got down on his knees and looked closer; the block looked as if it had been removed at some point in time. He didn’t have anything to pry it up so he felt along the bottom of the desk frame, hoping to find something; he did, he found a small pocket knife held there by a strip of Velcro. He tore it off, opened it and started to pry up the block. At first it didn’t budge, there was a lot of dirt down in the cracks, and then it started to move, in a few minutes he had it out and stuck his hand in the hole under it. He felt some objects and started pulling them out.
The first object was a couple letters; one labeled to “whomever” and the other to “My Dear Wife.” Robert opened the “whomever” letter and started to read the scribbled handwriting by his flashlight.
I am writing this to anyone that can find it and make use of it. I am James Ferguson; I have been a guard here from the start, the only one. The others have all been replaced at some point in time. The latest batch has brought someone I believe is of interest, his name is Jerry Dart. He replaced Gatchet nearly a year ago, so he is running the place. The reason I bring him up is lately he has taken to torturing the prisoners, at least that is what I think; he makes us leave the building. Everyone else seems to like him because not much fazes him, I’ve never even seem him flinch at Frennur. He even gets in staring matches. A week ago I was allowed to go home for a weekend as I hadn’t had leave for over a year, while I was gone I managed to get some of my mind back. Before that I couldn’t think clearly, having to face Frennur every day. He seems to have taken more of an interest in me lately, maybe because I’ve lasted the longest here. I feel I’m finally starting to crack. I’ve even taken to drinking again (past problem), as you may have found out from my stash. Anyway, I went home, found myself again, but I wasn’t the same, I couldn’t sleep and I couldn’t stop thinking of Frennur. During my sleepless nights I recalled once seeing Jerry talking to Frennur, I couldn’t hear, but something about both of them seemed odd to me, as if this wasn’t the usual conversation or part of our interrogation. I believed at the time that Jerry was up to something, rumor was flying around that the place was going to close down. I know now he is up to something while writing this letter. You see, I believe that Jerry has enjoyed himself here, enjoyed himself too much. At first he seemed an okay guy, but it didn’t take long before I realized he enjoyed this. Now that I think about it, he seems to enjoy this as much as Frennur (don’t be fooled, Frennur found this more amusing than our tapes let on, we also don’t record everything since Jerry got here, another worry). Back to my leave where these thoughts hit me hard; I was breaking down. I grabbed some supplies before coming back. Some alcohol (the other’s wouldn’t share anymore), a small audio tape recorder, and small amount of explosive, enough to at least cave in the place (I know a friend). My goal at the time was to sneak these things in, record one of Jerry’s sessions (when he kicks us out), and then blow the place up. I did the first two, I had already found this stow away place while sitting at this desk, but the final I can’t do, you see, today we are leaving, I’ve just heard. Jerry has been keeping more of an eye on me these days so I can’t get to the explosives and now that I have come to it, I can’t bring myself to do it. I know my end is near, I can see it in Frennur’s eyes, he and Jerry have planned something, I know this. I haven’t been able to listen to the recording, but I hope it holds some useful information and I hope this letter reaches someone. If it does please hand the other letter to my wife, it is my last good bye to her and my family. I hope it gives them some comfort if I die; I’m not quite as crazy as I let them know here.
Robert finished the letter and looked at the rest of the items he had pulled out. First he found a gun wrapped in a water tight bag, then a tape recorder (also bagged), a small bottle of gin, a wrapped up package (most likely the explosive), and finally a bag containing a crude trigger for the explosive. He examined the trigger; it was just a fuse leading to the detonator and a lighter.
The letter confirmed his thoughts, something had been going on here, and everything pointed to this Jerry Dart James referred too. Who was he, was he behind all this and if he was, why? He suddenly remembered where he was and that time was running out. He looked at his newfound supplies. He put the letters, the wrapped tape recorder, and the gin in his coat pockets, then pulled the gun out of the plastic bag. James hadn’t said anything about a gun, he looked it over and the last piece of the puzzle clicked into place. He had stumbled upon the biggest case since Trent Frennur and now had it all figured out; now there was only one thing left to do.
He was going to finish what James had planned. He put the gun in his pants and pulled out the explosive and stuck it to the wall joining the prisoners’ hallway and the room he was in. He pushed the detonator in and lit the short fuse. He ran out into the snow storm and ran into the trees next to the building. He heard a loud crash and saw a brief flame of light. After a few more seconds he ventured out into the clearing. He used his flashlight to examine the rubble, he had caved in the middle of the building; the rest still stood, but barely resembled the original structure. Time was running short and he still had one more place to visit.
Robert made his way to the second location from his memories and arrived there in five minutes, frozen, but alert. He approached the old tree stump. He could hear a howling as the wind wounds its way through the holes therein. He started walking around the area, searching for something. He came up to a ledge and noticed a tree growing out over it. He held onto the tree and looked down and
saw something. He lay down on his belly with his head and arms hanging over the cliff, he couldn’t tell how high it was. He shone his flashlight down on the rock right below him; he saw the trees roots growing down the cliff face and noticed that there was a cave like hole behind them. He put the flashlight in his pocket, grabbed onto the tree and swung his body out over the cliff edge. He pushed his feet through roots covering the hole and slid in. He had to use some of the roots to get his whole body in. He wormed his way in a few feet, and then the tunnel opened up to where he could crouch. He waddled in farther, taking the flashlight in one hand. He went about 10 feet before taking a sharp right turn, and coming out into an open area where he could stand up all the way, though his hair brushed up against a dirt roof. He shown the light around and found he was in a small cave, carved out by the tree roots and what looked to be a small spring coming out of the wall on the far end, which trickled down onto a bunch of tree roots coming out of the wall. Robert walked over to them and heard the wind howling above him and even felt a few flakes land on his face. He was under the old tree trunk. He examined more of the space. Facing away from the roots he found an opening to his right, which looked like it had been carved out. He walked over and peered in, it was only about ten by ten feet. He found some worn blankets in there and some old foliage, a bedroom it would appear. He backed out and walked over to the tree roots again. He found a pile of old ashes on the ground where a fire had been lit, using the tree system as a chimney. He sifted through the ashes with his flashlight and came across a metal object. It was burnt, deformed and no longer readable, but Robert knew it was a cop’s badge.
His thoughts were confirmed, and though he expected himself to panic, for some reason he was coping with this news. He felt calm, calm before the storm. He knew what was coming and yet didn’t run, he had to face this, and it was time to end it, to put it to rest. He put the badge in his pants pocket and took out the bottle of gin. He scooped the ashes out and found a hole that had been dug for the fires. He doused the tree roots with the gin and it ran down into the hole on the ground; he then tossed the bottle aside and pulled out the lighter. He crouched down next to the puddle of gin, pulled out the gun James had hid instead of the one given him (he somehow felt safer with it), and turned off his flashlight.
Robert waited for what seemed an eternity, straining to hear any noises over the low howling of the wind above him in the tree roots. The longer he waited, the more his insides started to twist, knowing what was about to happen. Yet his mind stayed clear, he was focused on what he had to do, and that was to end this.
He heard a small noise; could have been anything, but he knew it was time. He lit the lighter and placed it down in the pool of alcohol. Flames leapt up, lighting the cave. A body flew out of the opening into the cave and the flames revealed a man; dressed warmly, well taken care of, but showing signs of impatience. For a split second, Robert saw Trent Frennur’s eyes. They showed hunger, hunger to kill; to have a victim worth his while. Trent set his feet and lunged at Robert; Robert raised his gun and pulled the trigger, sending forth a flash of light and a deafening sound.
Robert’s ears finally quit ringing. The cave was starting to fill with smoke, the fire catching on quickly. Robert shook the dirt out of his hair which had fallen from the gun’s shock wave. He looked down at Frennur’s body, how many shots had he fired? He wasn’t sure, but his first had hit its mark right through his head. He bent down and pulled a knife out of Trent’s hand, which didn’t have a glove on, and using the reversed bag the recorder had been in, he wrapped it up and put it in his inside coat pocket. He took off Trent’s coat which had already picked up some blood and put it on; he was going to need it. He walked over to the tunnel and left without looking back, the flames burned on. He crawled out and lifted himself back on top of the ledge and set off for the third and final spot from his childhood. As he walked away he felt a slight tremor under his feet and heard a faint sound of collapse. He walked on and felt a weight lift from him, one he hadn’t noticed till now. His mind was clear and empty, his stomach had left its turns behind; it was all over.